I'm Positive
by Facing My Failure
Summary: How could they be sure Mark wouldn't get the virus, too? MarkOC
1. Chapter 1

I'm Positive

Chapter 1

PG-13

Not mine

* * *

"Where _is_ he?" Roger nudged Mark, who shrugged. The group sat in the familiar half-circle, not knowing what to do. Paul had died a few months ago, and Life Support hadn't known what to do with themselves. Collins had stepped forward to conduct the meetings. Now that he was late, the group sat in uncomfortable, stony silence.

"Do you think he's okay?" Mimi's eyes were worried and she clutched Roger's hand, knuckles white. Everyone had become considerably more concerned about each other after Angel's death. Suddenly the door burst open, Collins walking in swiftly, looking breathless.

"Sorry, guys. I had an… unexpected detour. She should be coming soon. Ok, who wants to – " He was interrupted by the door banging open once more. A younger woman who looked twenty-something walked in, eyes red-rimmed and tearful. Every head turned in her direction. Her walk faltered, uneasy at all the attention.

"Sorry! Excuse me." She took a few more steps forward, then spilled some papers on the floor. "Oops." Her face turned pink and she looked mortified as she gathered the pages quickly. Mark smiled weakly at the familiar scene.

"Why don't you introduce yourself?" Collins gently encouraged. The girl rose and blushed a deeper shade of pink.

"Oh, I'm not – I'm just here to – " she raised the notebook, then suddenly looked worried. "I don't have -! I'm here with – Sara! I'm Sara." She groaned and ran her fingers through her hair, embarrassed. Forget pink, her face resembled the color of a ripe tomato. Mark smiled once more, and she looked down at her hands, not returning it.

For the first time in a long time, Mark didn't pay attention to anything that went on at the meeting. Anything – except Sara. Though she didn't say anything, after the initial shock wore off and the meeting progressed, Sara rummaged in her purse, found a pen, and began furiously writing. Mark couldn't help but notice that when she wrote, her blue eyes sparkled. He was torn from his trance by a sharp elbow in the side from Roger.

"We're going, dork." Sara giggled inconspicuously, and Mark's cheeks pinked. He, Roger, and Mimi made their way toward the door. Collins jogged up behind them, dragging Sara along by the hand.

"Hey, guys. This is Sara Dawson. She's a friend of mine." Roger nodded, Mimi smiled, and Mark stared. Now that he could look her full in the face, she was breathtaking, to him, anyway. She was as tall as he, small and skinny, but not muscular, by any means. Her eyes dulled now that she wasn't writing, but the look was intense and icy, daring you to say something, but her face was generally sweet. Her hair caught his eye the most. It was golden brown – no, blonde, no – red. He really couldn't say. It changed with the light. It didn't look falsely done, though, and Mark liked that.

Sara cleared her throat and he seemed to come to. "Oh! I'm Mark!" he said quickly, holding out a hand and shaking hers. She gave him half a smile and stepped closer to Collins. Mark inwardly kicked himself.

"You guys getting lunch?" Collins asked. Mimi laughed.

"No! We're going up to the loft. You want to come?"

"Yeah. Sara, you want something to eat? She shuffled her feet, battling something in her mind. Hunger seemed to have won, and she smiled weakly.

"Sure."

* * *

Being a naturally shy person, Sara didn't like meeting these strange, eccentric new people. They were loud and obscene, but funny and nice to her, so Sara decided she liked them. Contented to sit and watch, she did so. The one called Roger was the loudest and most obscene of the group, and prone to making jokes at the expense of the one who kept staring at her. Mark, she supposed. The girl, Mimi, was sweet, flirtatious, and had a maternal air about her. Sara decided right away that she liked her.

Mark, though. She didn't quite know what to think of him. He had a sweet, ageless-looking face, and a concerned air toward his friends, but he wasn't afraid of being a cynic, which was good enough for Sara. She couldn't stand wholesome, goody, self-righteous people, herself not being among them.

She followed them down Avenue B past 11th street to a large, red brick building. It was dingy and broken-looking. The dirty, graffiti-covered walls inside were a further manifestation of the people she supposed must live there. She and the group made their way up the flights until they reached the top. Roger flung open the sliding door singing something about "no place like home". Sara took a few steps inside and was astonished. These people lived in such squalor, but they were so seemingly happy. The walls were dirty, the paint had faded, and a sheet was tacked on one of the walls, a projector across the floor from it. The walls were plastered with posters of a band called "Mute", clippings from "The Village Voice", and newspaper sections of a girl with curly hair in front of some television screens, lights spelling "LEAP OF FAITH", and her arms spread to the crowd. Sara wondered who the woman was, but was too timid to ask. Suddenly, a seductive voice said in her ear:

"Well, hello there," a woman said, syrup dripping from every syllable. A soft hand stroked Sara's arm. She was terrified, and couldn't move.

"Can I help you?" she asked shakily.

"Mo, lay off," Mark said. The hand snaked away with a shriek of laughter. Sara turned and looked into the face of the woman from the newspapers. Mark stepped forward.

"Mo, this is Sara. Sara, this is Maureen. Joanne, her girlfriend, should be around here somewhere." Sara's eyes widened. She had just been hit on, and almost felt up by a lesbian. The liberal in her wouldn't let her discriminate against the crazy woman because of her… inclinations, but she still felt extremely violated. It must have shown in her face, because Mark laughed at her, but not in an unkind way. She smiled back through her mortification.

"At least she didn't dump you for another woman." Sara looked at him shocked for a moment. Surely he was joking! She decided he wasn't and laughed.

"I'm sorry, but that's funny."

"Yeah, I know. They still laugh at me for that. Hey, you want to get out of here? I think I might actually have 10 bucks for food." Sara smiled gratefully.

"Sure."

* * *

a/n: So… spring break does insane things to a mind. So does waiting for A WHOLE WEEK to know if you got Dorothy in _The Wizard of Oz_. So, that explains the nonsense. Oh, yeah. I was watching South Park when I wrote this chapter too. So… Yeah. YOU KILLED KENNY! Sorry. Good for you, the whole story is planned out. I have AN OUTLINE! So, when I take forever to update, its not because I can't think of anything to say. Its because I am too lazy to say it. Review if you like it. 


	2. Chapter 2

I'm Positive

Chapter 2

PG-13

I doesn't own this stuffs!

* * *

Mark and Sara walked down the street in stifling, uncomfortable silence. _What to say? What to say? _Mark was racking his brain for something, _anything_ to say that was even remotely intelligent. Unfortunately, nerves took over.

"So… um… what's your… favorite… color?" He immediately regretted his words and cast a nervous glance in Sara's direction. Thankfully, she burst into laughter.

"Red," she said between laughs. "You?" she gasped.

"Blue," he replied, smiling.

"Interestingly enough, that isn't the weirdest first question I've ever been asked."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. A guy asked me, if I could be any cereal I wanted, which would it be?"

"And what did you reply?"

"Trix. It worked for him, though. That night, I had some of the hottest sex I ever had." Mark laughed. Sara gave him a sly look and asked, "If you could be any cereal in the world, which would you be?" Mark laughed again. He liked this girl.

"Cap'n Crunch. I've been eating it so much for so long, I'm probably made of it anyway." Sara smiled and they continued down the streets, the uncomfortable silence broke. Upon arriving at the place Mark had taken them, the two sat down and stared at each other for a short while. Something flickered behind Sara's eyes and she leaned her elbows on the table, resting her chin on the bridge she created with her hands, staring at Mark intently. He rapidly became uncomfortable.

"What?" he finally shouted. Sara's eyes narrowed.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" Mark was taken aback by such a forward question.

"Wh – What?"

"Do you think I'm pretty?" she insisted. "I mean, you keep staring at me!" Mark blushed furiously and looked down at his hands, embarrassed. Sara laughed. "I mean, its ok if you do." Mark flushed another shade darker.

"Well, I guess… I mean… oh – I don't know!" Sara gave him a disbelieving look. Mark gave a cry of frustration. "Am I that transparent?" Sara traced a design on the table with her forefinger.

"That, and you really were staring at me." She looked up at him. "But that's okay, because I like you," she said, unabashed. Mark smiled at the comment.

"Where are you from anyway?" he asked. Sara snorted.

"Boulder City, Nevada. The best dam town in the world! That's dam as in D-A-M. it's the home of the Hoover Dam."

"You sound really scornful."

"Really? I was trying _so _hard to hide it," she snapped. Mark winced. "Sorry, it just irritates me to think of the pit I come from." She leaned forward onto her arms resting on the table, beckoning Mark to come closer. "You wanna know what its like in 'clean, green Boulder City'?" she said, adding air quotes with her fingers. Mark didn't reply, but she plowed on anyway.

"Ok. So, there are basically 2 kinds of people in Boulder City. The ones who love it, and will never leave; so much so they have to go to UNLV so they don't go too far, and the people who cannot _wait_ to leave. Take a wild guess which group I fall under." She paused for effect. "I was going to die. I mean, the people there and the place itself were just… just… stifling! They got me on drugs, and then they got me – " she suddenly stopped, looking like she almost said too much. "I'm sorry. It gets me worked up." She began tapping her fingers onto the table rapidly and nervously. Mark studied her face.

"You don't look like a junkie," he decided. She sat back and put her fingers to her mouth.

"I'm not," she replied. "I quit, a long time ago." Sara looked at Mark and frowned. "Well, what's your story?"

"Not much of one. I ditched a place I couldn't stand, like you did, and I moved here, and now I'm watching my best friends die." Sara's eyes widened at her blunt words.

"You don't have, like, a girlfriend, or anything?" Mark smiled and shook his head.

"No. Not since Maureen." Sara giggled, remembering what he told her at the loft.

"We should get back," Mark said. "I never told them I was leaving. They'll probably think we got mugged or something. They're incredibly protective." Sara snorted.

"Oh, and you're not?"

"I never did anything protective!"

"Yeah, but you still look the part." Mark stretched.

"All, right, you win. Lets go."

The way back was the polar opposite from the way there. Mark and Sara laughed and teased and talked. She walked him to her chic little Manhattan apartment. Mark gave a low whistle.

"You live _here_?"

"Mum and Daddy, like you, are insanely protective. If I was going to rebel and go east, I was doing it their way." She smiled, thinking for a moment.

"Hey, you wouldn't want to – I mean, we had fun today, and I thought – " Sara cut him off with a light kiss on the end of his nose.

"You're really cute when you don't know what to say."


	3. Chapter 3

I'm Positive

Chapter 3

PG-13

I doesn't own this stuffs!

* * *

"Oh, what a beautiful _mor­_-ning, _oh _what a beautiful day! _I_'ve got a beautiful _feeling_, everything's _go_-ing my way!" Mark skipped and danced into the loft, a smile plastered on his face. Roger's was contorted into a look of disgust, Mimi was stifling giggles, Collins shook his head and chuckled his head warmly. Mark made a little pirouette before falling on his couch, a happy sigh escaping him.

"That was the fastest quickie I've ever seen in my life," Roger spat. Mark shot up.

"Hey!" Mimi laughed and pinched Roger.

"You shut up. Its obvious the boy got a date. Besides, Sara doesn't strike me as that kind of girl. Maureen, on the other hand…" she said, smiling slyly. Maureen made no reply, but gracefully flipped the dancer off.

"Of course she's not that kind of girl! She's – she's – smart, and funny, and cynical, and beautiful and – "

"And she walks on water, and heals the sick, and changes water into wine…" Roger said. Mark scowled at him.

"Almost," Collins laughed, and smacked Mark upside the head with his newspaper. "I knew you'd like her. My suspicions were confirmed when she _busted_ in with that same awkward speech you had at your first Life Support meeting." Mark smiled. Maureen suddenly hopped from her spot in the corner and stared at Mark mischievously.

"Where you gonna take her?" Mark's face fell. Maureen laughed. "The boy has no idea!" Mimi pushed Maureen over and fluffed Mark's hair playfully.

"We'll just have to figure it out, won't we? Well, if you take her to the Life Café, I will shank you myself."

"What? Why?"

"Because you take all your first dates there."

"How do you know that?" he demanded. Mimi snorted.

"Because. I know. All fangirls take you there." Mark looked at her, incredibly weirded out.

"Oh, my God, I've got it!" Maureen cried.

"Forget it Mo, you won't take her to the Kink Club like you take Joanne."

"Shut up, Roger, and listen to me, Mark. You think you can get to a store and get decent food and candles?"

* * *

Sara sighed and took one last look in the mirror. Her head was pounding with nerves and excitement. _7:27_._ He'll be here any minute,_ she thought. Her hands flew to her mouth and she began gnawing on her fingernails as she paced the floor. Her heart stopped as the doorbell rang. _There he is_. She gave one last tug to her hair, and nervously pulled her shirt down. She opened the door to see Mark with a white rose in one hand, the other jammed in his pocket, eyes searching the ceiling of her apartment complex. He jumped and gave her a smile.

"Hi," she said shakily.

"Hi," he replied, holding out the flower.  
"Thank you," she said, smiling. Suddenly, Mark smiled mischievously and whipped a blindfold over her eyes. She let out a cry of surprise. "Mark! What are you doing?" She squealed, laughing.

"You'll see," he answered taking her hand and leading here around corners and down streets, often laughing to himself as he refused to answer Sara's frequent outbursts of "Mark, where are you taking me?" She heard a rattling of keys and the of a heavy metal door. He took the blindfold off and she gasped.

The was _not_ the loft she was in yesterday. The metal table and couches had been pushed to the side and covered with deep red cloth. In the center of the still bare room was the low-sitting coffee table laden with food, candles, and another rose. Surrounding the table were squashy – looking cushions. The lights were off and the room was bathed in a soft, golden glow given off by many candles scattered about the floor.

"Oh, my God," Sara breathed, taking Mark's hand. "Its beautiful. You didn't do this, did you?"

"No, I just ran for everyone else. Maureen came up with the initial concept, Mimi stood and told me where to put everything, and Collins made the food."

"What did Roger do?"

"Oh, he stood around laughing. Then he accused me of being a pansy for doing everything Maureen and Mimi told me to do. I'd say it was worth it." Sara nodded, speechless. The two stared at each other for a moment before being ripped from their stupor by "Musetta's Waltz".

"For your information, Romeo, I'm here to provide mood music," Roger said. Mark smiled, then cleared his throat.

"Um, let's eat."

The dinner went by quickly. The two talked about Life Support, Maureen, the other bohemians, and other things before Mark stopped talking abruptly.

"What's wrong?" Sara asked, concerned.

"Your Eyes."

"What about them?"

"It's the song Roger's playing. We think it's the reason Mimi's still alive. I can't believe he would play that for us."

"Why would Mimi be dead?" Mark told Sara the story of the past year; of Angel, Mimi, Joanne, and Benny. At the conclusion, Sara sighed.

"That's beautiful."

"Yeah, you are," Mark replied absently, then furiously blushing at what he had just said. Sara smiled shyly and looked down. Mark seemed to come to.

"Your eyes!" he exclaimed.

"The song's over, Mark," Sara said, smiling.

"No, they're two different colors!" She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I know. One's blue, and the other is green." Mark looked at them as Sara stared back, almost defiantly. He then stood up and held out his hand. She took it and stood up.

"What now?" He steered he to one of the couches and sat her down across from the sheet behind the projector she recognized. She folded her hands in her lap and waited expectantly.

"This, uh, this is my documentary from last year," he said nervously, rubbing his neck. "I hope you like it." He switched on the projector and "TODAY 4 U: PROOF POSITIVE" flickered on the wall. Sara watched as Mimi, Roger, Collins, Maureen, Mark, and people she supposed must be Angel, Joanne, and Benny played across the screen along with people she didn't know. People laughing, people talking, people living. It filled her with emotions she missed. Friendship, joy, love. As it played, tears spilled from her eyes. The film concluded with rapid frames of the friends ending with Angel before flickering off. Sara hastily and angrily began wiping tears from her cheeks, upset that she would get so emotional over people she barely knew.

"Did you like it?" Mark asked nervously.

"It was… _wonderful_," she cried, more tears forcing their way out, coursing down her cheeks. Mark gently wiped them from her face as she gave him a watery smile.

"Good," he said quietly. She looked at him, an intense expression on his face. She surprised him with a deep, loving kiss. When they broke apart, the new lovers smiled at each other and leaned in for another kiss. They were interrupted by an exaggerated sigh to see Roger with his head leaning on his hand.

"Young love!" he said stupidly, obviously mocking them.

"Shut up, Hendrix," Mark replied, smiling.

"What _is_ it with you people?" Roger shouted, throwing his hands up in the air and stalking to his room. Mark shook his head and kissed Sara tenderly once more. After a few minutes, he stood up and led her to what must have been his bedroom, she thought. She withdrew her hand and took a step backward, fingernails returning to her mouth nervously.

"What's the matter?" he asked. She shook her head, but remained where she stood; looking as though she was debating something in her mind. "We don't have to," Mark began. "I can take you home."

"No!" Sara said suddenly. "No, I – I want this. I want us," she said, and took his hand walking into his room.

* * *

a/n: No, this isn't a companion to "Take Me Or Leave Me," I just wanted to put in the Hendrix gag again. I had to. Sorry. 


	4. Chapter 4

I'm Positive

Chapter 4

PG-13

I doesn't own this stuffs!

"Don't you have your own place to live?" Roger asked, irritated.

"Of course I do, but your place is funner," Sara replied. "You be quiet, Roger. You know you love me." He grunted in response, because he knew it was true. She was funny and cute and made Mark sickeningly happy. Anyone that did that was good enough for Roger, since Mark was so rarely genuinely happy. "Besides, Mimi practically lives here, too."

"Yeah, well, that's different." Sara smiled at him.

"What about me?" Mimi asked as she walked into the room, weaving her fingers in Roger's.

"Nothing," he replied sullenly, hating the fact that Sara was always right.

"Oh, I got those beads you wanted," Mimi said to Sara tossing a box to her.

"Thank you! I've been wanting these for days!" she said, whipping out a notebook and paper, and began furiously scribbling. Mimi and Roger looked at each other, confused, wondering why in the world those beads would instill such sudden inspiration in Sara's brain. Mimi shrugged.

"We just don't think like her," she decided. "Come, we'll go the park or something," she said to Roger. Sara continued her rapid writing and frequent crossings-out until she was interrupted by two hands snaking around her waist and two lips planting kisses on her neck. She shivered and smiled.

"Oooh, you devil. I _hate_ it when you do that to me."

"Liar," Mark murmured, and continued his trail down to her collarbone. Sara turned his head and kissed his lips. She returned to her paper and tapped the pen against the notebook impatiently, then throwing her pen at Mark.

"Ow!" he cried, rubbing his arm where it had struck. "What was that for?" Sara giggled.

"You ruined my train of thought." Mark scowled, but laughed at her innocent look. "Why don't you help me?" she asked. "I'm making decorations for the loft," she said, shaking the box of beads.

"I guess," he said. "Don't you dare make it all girly. I still have my dignity." Sara snorted and threaded a needle. "Where were you yesterday?" he asked, sitting down next to her.

"I went to the Kink Club with Maureen and Joanne," she replied matter-of-factly.

"No, really. Where were you?"

"I was with them! I really like those two. They remind me of me." Mark shook his head.

"You had better not go lesbian on me." Sara laughed.

"I won't," she promised. After a minute, she suddenly reached in her pocket and popped a pill.

"Got a headache?" Mark asked.

"No. Its my AZT." Mark froze.

"Your what?"

"My AZT."

"You have AIDS?"

"Yeah," she replied slowly, looking quizzically at him. Mark shook his head.

"Wait. You have _AIDS._"

"Yes, Mark. Acquired-immune-deficiency-syndrome. Just like you," she said, bending back over her work.

"No, I don't," he said quietly. Sara looked up quickly.

"What?"

"I don't have AIDS, Sara. At least, I didn't," he said in an accusatory tone.

"But – but you were at Life Support," she said desperately.

"Life Support's a group of people coping with life! Its not just for people with AIDS!" he cried, knocking the box of beads over with his hand. Sara jumped.

"But – I – I – you – I thought you did!" she said, searching his face. A look of rage suddenly passed over hers. "Well, join the club, buddy!" Mark was taken aback by her sudden change in emotion. "You aren't the first person to receive a death sentence!"

"Well, I didn't think I would get it from the woman I loved!" he shouted back. "Why don't you go infect someone else now?" Sara's eyes narrowed.

"So that's it? You're going to leave me to die alone?" Mark wordlessly pointed to the door. She grabbed her notebook. "Roger has Mimi. Angel had Collins. Are you going to make us be the only people to die with or for?" Mark crossed his arms stubbornly, looking away. Sara spat on the ground at his feet. "I hope you did tomorrow!" she cried, her words quivering. She stalked out the door, sliding it shut as loudly as she could. Mark heard her sobs, but tried to ignore them by staring out the window. Roger and Mimi came in the house shortly afterward.

"Hey, what's wrong with Sara?" Mark grabbed his goat and stormed toward the door shouting:

"She's killed me, that's what's wrong!"

X

a/n: sigh. I don't know. That was sad to write. Now I'm all bummed out.


	5. Chapter 5

I'm Positive

Chapter 5

The door to Collins' apartment slammed open as he was grading papers. He didn't look up as Mark threw his coat and scarf on a chair and roared, "_Why didn't you tell me?_"

"Oh, sure, come on in. I'm not busy," he replied serenely, continuing his work.

"Collins!" Mark shouted furiously. Collins sighed and laid down his pen, clasping his hands together and looked at the blonde. "Why didn't you tell me?" Mark raged again.

"Tell you what?"

"That Sara has AIDS?"

"What, you didn't know?"

"_No_, I didn't know! That's not really something I would expect in a girlfriend!"

"Mark, how stupid are you? Why do you think I brought her to Life Support?"

"I don't know! Because its fun?"

"Oh, shut up! Honestly! I found her outside the clinic with her positive test results crying. I figured she could use some friends, so I brought her along. And yeah, I know its not just for people with AIDS, but really. You're like, the only one of us without it."

"Not anymore," Mark said sullenly, not meeting the other man's eyes. Collins looked shocked.

"What do you mean?"

"Sara neglected to give me that nice little bit of information. I don't know for sure, but its pretty likely she gave it to me." Collins pounded his fist on the table.

"I repeat: _are you stupid_? Have you never heard of a condom? God, Mark! If not for your own protection, for hers? Don't you remember that time when Maureen freaked out because she thought she was pregnant after the _one time _you didn't use protection?" Mark looked down at his hands, feeling incredibly stupid. "You can't pin all this on her. You need to take some responsibility too," he said. Mark looked out the window, angry tears welling up in his eyes. Collins knelt before him and took his hands. "Listen, man. You've got to get tested. You can't just freak out, you have to know for sure. Its bad knowing you do, its even worse wondering." Mark nodded.

"Okay. Hey, will you – will you come with me?" he asked shakily.

"Of course I will."

X

Collins walked Mark to the free clinic he had found Sara at, an arm slung around his shoulders in a brotherly sort of way. Mark stopped at the doors and looked inside, afraid to go in. Collins gave him a nudge and said, "You're not alone." Mark sighed and walked in up to the front desk w here a receptionist sat at a computer, smacking her gum.

"Can I help you?" she droned.

"Um – I – you – we – " Mark stumbled. Collins came to his rescue.

"He needs an HIV test." The girl eyed them with her blue eye shadow laden eyes, a judgmental look on her face.

"I'm not gay, and I'm not a junkie. So, I'll thank you to stop looking at me like that," he said stonily. The woman raised her blood red claws defensively.

"Hey, sorry, I just work here," she said with a heavy Brooklyn accent. "I need you to fill these out," she said, pushing a stack of papers toward him.

After what seemed an endless amount of names, social security numbers, and mother's maiden names, Mark returned his forms to the receptionist, who now sat with a tabloid magazine. Mark cleared his throat and she pointed wordlessly to a basket, cracking her gum once more.

And so he sat. For hours, it seemed. He sat beside Collins, crossing and uncrossing his legs, sliding up and down the plastic seat, folding and refolding his arms, sighing discontentedly. He checked the clock on the wall. Only three minutes had passed. Another four. Seven minutes gone by. Collins laid a reassuring hand on Mark's arm, who tried to give him a smile, but succeeded only in a grimace.

"Mark Cohen?" a nurse questioned, a folder in her hand. Mark took a deep breath and stood. The young nurse smiled sweetly and led him down the hall. "I understand you'll be having an HIV test?" she asked. Mark nodded grimly, the cold, hard words pounding in his brain. _HIV test. HIV test. HIV test._ He was brought into a small, cubicle-like space where he sat down on a sterile, paper-covered table.

"Dr. Neal will be in shortly, the young nurse said, smiling sweetly once more. Waiting. More waiting. Endless minutes, hours, days, _years_ wasted waiting! Suddenly, the door opened and a man in a white coat entered. The doctor, Mark supposed.

"Mark!" he said jovially. "I'm Dr. Neal. Looks like an HIV test. Now, are you currently on drugs, or sexually active now?" Mark swallowed dryly.

"My, um, my girlfriend has AIDS and didn't tell me. So… yeah." The doctor nodded and wrote some things on a pink colored paper.

"Okay. A good reason to be tested." He set the paper and pen down on the table next to Mark and clasped his hands together, looking Mark in the eye. "So. Today, we'll have the first of three potential tests. We'll take some blood and have it tested in the lab. If that comes back negative, then that's the last you'll need. We'll know you are not HIV positive. If it does, come back positive, you'll come back for a second. If that is positive, you'll see us again for a third. If all three turn out to be positive, then you are, in f act, HIV positive, and will have to be treated accordingly. AZT, all that." Mark nodded. Dr. Neal scribbled some more on his paper and handed it to Mark. "Take that to the lab, down the hall and to the left, and they'll take the blood they need." Mark took the page and shook Dr. Neal's hand.

"Thanks," he croaked. Following the directions, he made his way to the lab, where two tired-looking women sat, chatting. He walked up to them and silently handed over the paper, unable to speak. One of them took it from him and read it over. _Don't say it, _he mentally willed. _Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't – _"

"Oh, an HIV test. Didn't we just have one not too long ago, Shirley?" The woman nodded.

"There's so many, I can't hardly keep track anymore. But that's ok. You come on back and we'll get you all fixed up, okay honey?" She stood and walked to a back room filled with vials, cotton swabs, and popsicle sticks. She snapped on a pair of rubber gloves and motioned for Mark to sit down. He did so, and she rolled up his sleeve, sterilizing his arm with a cotton ball, then snapping a rubber band around Mark's upper arm. He saw her r each for a needle and quickly looked away. _I'll be okay, as long as I can't see it. _He suddenly drew in a sharp breath as something pinched his arm. He didn't dare look. He hated blood, especially his. After a while, she removed the needle and covered up the spot where it had been with a cotton ball and some tape.

"Good job, honey. I could tell you didn't like that. But who really does?" she laughed. He tried once more to smile, unsuccessfully. She patted his arm and promised to call him in a few days. Mark walked back out to where Collins was, blinking back tears of terror and shame.

X

a/n: Kind of a filler. But whatever. THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU SHOULDN'T REVIEW! Wink wink wink wink WIIIIIIIIINK!


	6. Chapter 6

I'm Positive

Chapter 6

Mark lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, an arm slung across his forehead. His eyes were focusing and unfocusing on a filthy spot of who knew what on the canvas catching the raindrops falling from the hole in the roof. The beloved camera sat next to the projector, both gathering dust from not being used. Roger came and rested his arms on the couch, watching Mark.

"How do you feel?" Mark gave no reply. "What is it today, the headaches, dizziness, or are you just tired?" During the first two weeks of taking AZT, the side-effects had taken their toll on Mark. Often, he never left his bed, slipping in and out of dreamless consciousness. Other days, he would try to get up and join the world of he normal, but was forced to sit down because of sharp pains in his head, or he just blacked out. Little did Roger know, Mark hadn't had either of these symptoms the past two days – he just didn't care anymore.

After a minute of silence, Roger came back with a box of cereal and shook it under Mark's nose.

"Look, Mark. Food. Mmm… doesn't it smell good? Come on, eat." Mark never moved from his position. Roger socked him in the arm. "Come on, Mark. Get _up_. I'm sick of this. I _know _you haven't had nausea, if you've even got the other side-effects anymore." After receiving no answer, Roger hit him again. "Come _on_!" Sighing, he got up and went to his guitar. Mark hated when he played "Musetta's Waltz."

"Collins should move in. And Mimi. Then we'd be an HIV-infested colony. Just like the lepers," Mark said, unexpectedly. Roger rolled his eyes. When he did talk, Mark often made sorrowful, self-pitying comments like that. There was a knock on the door, and Roger looked up. _That'll be Maureen_, he thought. In desperation, Roger had called her, because she never put up with Mark's crap if he got mopey when they had been to gether. Hopefully, she could work her magic again. Plus, Mark had yet to tell her that he had the virus. When Roger opened the door, it wasn't Maureen. It was Sara. Roger's eyes hardened at the sight of her.

"What?" he snapped. Sara's eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away and stared back with the icy determination Mark had once loved so well.

"I want to see Mark."

"Why?"

"I want to see Mark."  
"Why, you got a gun, and are going to finish the job? AIDS too slow a death for you?"

"There's nothing to finish. I know what I did was wrong, and I'm trying to fix it. I want to apologize. I want to see M ark."  
"Too little, too late," Roger replied coldly, but stepped aside so she could get past. She knelt beside the couch where Mark was.

"Mark?" she said softly. "Mark? Its me. I – uh – I just want to apologize. Again. I know now I should have told you, and I am _so_ sorry." Mark rolled over, his back to her. "Mark. _Mark_," she persisted. "Mark, talk to me." He suddenly shot up.

"Talk about what? How you slapped an expiration date on me? Just – go. I have things to do," he snapped, returning to his previous position. Sara choked back a sob, and left, determined to come back and back until he broke.

X

An hour later, another knock sounded on the door. Maureen was notorious for her tardiness. Roger opened the door and let her and Joanne in. She gazed at Mark's unmoving figure, her heart breaking for him.

"He hasn't moved at all?"

"Not since this morning when he got up to take a pee." Roger walked over to Mark and hit him again. "Maureen's here to see you," he said, then bent down and hissed in Mark's ear: "She doesn't know yet. You tell her _now_." He knew Mark had heard him, because a look of fear flickered behind his eyes. Maureen sat in the place Sara had just left, and laid a hand on his arm, Joanne sitting beside her.

"Marky, baby, what's wrong with you? Is it because of Sara? I'm sure she'd take you back. You just had a fight. Jo and I have them all the time." Joanne rolled her eyes. "Come on, baby, tell me what's wrong." Mark sat up and looked at the floor.

"I have AIDS," he mumbled.

"What?" Maureen asked, stroking his hair.

"I have AIDS," he repeated.

"Oh, ha ha, Mark. April fools' was a long time ago."

"I'm not joking, Maureen. I have AIDS, just like Collins, Roger, and Mimi. I have to take AZT, I – "

"Okay!" Maureen shouted, stopping him. "I get it. AIDS. But – _how_?"

"Sara gave it to me." Joanne's eyes narrowed and she continued to listen.

"S – Sara?" Maureen stammered.

"Yeah." She shook her head, covering her ears, trying to block out the thing she so desperately didn't want to hear.

"No, no, no, _no_! You – you can't! Mark, you can't!"

"I can't really help it, Mo."

"I – _no_! Roger, Mimi, Collins, Sara, apparently, Angel _died_, and now my Marky? _No_!" she whispered, collapsing on the floor. "You were supposed to – to – to get married, and have kids, and a normal life, and not die until you're – a hundred! You messed it up, Mark! You messed it all up." When he didn't reply, Maureen looked up to see a broken Mark, his head in his hands, body racked with sobs.

X

Sorry so short. I thought that was a good spot to leave off.

P.S. THE WORLD HATES ME AND WONT' GIVE ME REVIEWS, APPARRENTLY!


	7. Chapter 7

I'm Positive

Chapter 7

"I have AIDS," Mark repeated. Joanne's eyes widened. _Mark?_ She watched him and Maureen talk for a minute as he tried to explain that he wasn't joking. Maureen then vocalized the same thought racing around Joanne's brain.

"Okay!" she shouted. "I get it. AIDS. But – how?" Mark stared off into the corner, a pitiful look on his face, as though it broke his heart to answer.

"Sara gave it to me." Joanne's eyes narrowed dangerously. _Sara_. Her mind became focused on one goal: hurt the thing that hurt Mark. Kill the woman that killed him. He talked with Maureen for a few minutes, and she turned it into a melodramatic performance. Suddenly, the loft door slammed shut. Mark and Maureen looked up to see Joanne gone.

"Oh no," Mark moaned. "She's going to do something she'll regret later." He sighed and got up. "Come on. Let's go get her." Maureen smiled. _There's my Mark_.

X

Joanne walked through the streets quickly, fury blinding her. She reached the little apartment and rapped on the door. Sara opened it and smiled.

"Oh, hey, Joanne." Her smile faltered at the look of intense anger facing her.

"Why didn't you tell Mark?" she growled through gritted teeth. Sara saw her fists clench and unclench.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, defensively crossing her arms.

"Oh, don't be stupid!" Joanne snapped. Sara took a step back in fear. "Why didn't you tell him you had AIDS?"

"I – I don't know," she said quietly, looking at the floor.

"Do _not_ play this with me! I'm pre-menstrual, and pitching for a fight. Do you know anything? _Why_?" Sara's inconveniently short temper exploded.

"Because I didn't want to know it myself!" she cried. Sara was sick of everyone taking Marks's side. Of course she wouldn't have given it to him intentionally, as he had so accused her. "I was afraid! If I never had to say the words, 'I have AIDS', then it couldn't have been true! If I couldn't say it to myself, how do you expect me to say it to the man I – " Her hand flew to her mouth, looking like she had said too much. Joanne's expression darkened.

"I can't believe you would be so selfish," she said, her voice dangerously quiet.

"You don't understand – "

"No, _you_ don't understand!" she cried, shoving Sara back. "You just took the one bit of normalcy in our crazy lives and tore it away! He was going to be successful and normal, and what society dictates as good, and you took that away from him. From us. And not just that, you just broke everyone's hope."

"Why will nobody listen? I would _never _want that for him! I love him!" The two women stood, shocked at the words that had spilled out. Joanne stared for a moment, and then turned to go.

"_Nooooooooo_!" Maureen shrieked, bolting around the corner with Mark. "Pookie, don't kill her! She's not worth it! She – Why aren't you killing her?" Joanne shrugged and turned the corner. Maureen shot Sara a poisonous look. She looked at Mark.

"You heard?"

"Every word." She looked up at him, desperate hope shining in her eyes. "I think I loved you too. But I don't know how I could face this with the one who forced me to." The two looked at each other, Sara with a look of intense desperation, Mark filled with conflict and pain. He shook his head and followed after Maureen and Joanne.

X

Whoa. I guess my desperate cry for reviews worked! And look what happened! A quick update! So… new chapter plus lots of reviews equals faster update!


	8. Chapter 8

I'm Positive

Chapter 8

It was a game to him, now. Clear, unclear. His eyes focused, unfocused. _Almost fun_, he thought. Almost. After his episode with Maureen, Joanne, and Sara, they figured he had returned to some measure of his old self. They were wrong. He stumbled back to the loft and fell back to his same spot, as though nothing had happened, with the exception of two rivers of tears funning out the corners of his eyes. For two weeks. His mind was a constant battle.

_You love her._

_But she killed you._

_She loves you, too._

_But, she KILLED you._ The same self-pitying excuse came up. _She killed you_. It almost made him feel ashamed of this sick, new, consuming selfishness. Almost. _Where is the old me? The fiercely protective me? The solid dependable me?_ It almost made him want to do something about it. Almost. His thoughts were interrupted by a coat slapping him in the face. He made no move, except to slowly slide it away so his eyes could continue their perusal of the ceiling.

"What are you doing?" Roger asked, irritated.

"Saving up my life for when I want to use it later."

"Will you shut up with that crap, please? Its not funny, or cute. Not anymore. Now, you are going to get up, and we are going out."

"There's no point. We're all going to die, anyway." Roger kicked him.

"Now, you shut up and quit this 'Poor me, I have AIDS, I'm going to die' crap. Guess what, Mark? I have AIDS too! Whoa! But do you see me staring mindlessly into space like some retard? Now, you listen to me. You are going to get off that couch, have a shower, and we are going to meet Collins and Mimi to go scare tourists." Mark looked up at him with sorrowful eyes.

"I don't know if I can! I am so emotionally exhausted, I can't even sit up!" Roger snorted.

"I don't see why not. All you do is lay there and sleep."

"I don't know what to do with myself, so I sit here," Mark continued as though he hadn't heard him. Roger sighed.

"Mark, do you remember that Halloween when you told me not to run away? Well, that's what you're doing."

"I'm not going anywhere, Rog."

"You are running away from your pain, and the truth of your life. You're hiding. Don't. Don't lose your life. You want to waste what's left of it on that couch? And Sara? She is quite easily the best thing that ever happened to you! You were constantly singing, _dancing_, we didn't even recognize you! You were so sickeningly happy, Mimi and I were always in danger of throwing up. But you know? I would take that over this new shit any day. Don't throw away the best thing that ever happened to you. I did, and look what happened. Mimi almost died. _Died_. Mark. Do you want Sara to _die_?"

"Yeah, but – "

" 'But she gave me AIDS,' " Roger mocked, scowling. "Ooh." Mark glared at Roger. "Yeah. She did. And you know what? She feels like shit for it. What more do you want? April gave me AIDS, and I don't care. She didn't know, neither did Sara. I don't blame April, you shouldn't blame Sara."

"Yeah, but April's dead." Roger shot Mark a look to kill.

"Then I'll go and kill Sara. Then how would you feel?" Mark looked away. _Point made_, Roger thought. "Now. You go put on that coat, get your damn scarf, and, I can _not_ believe I'm saying this, your _goddamn _camera." Mark smiled and sat up. Roger walked away.

"Roger?" Mark called after him.

"What?"

"Thanks." The two locked eyes and smiled. "Lets go, nerd."

X

"Mimi and Collins sat on some rich guy's stoop, waiting. Mimi was clicking her fingernails on the stone, the sound becoming more frequent, and more irritating as time went by. Collins joined her and the two were locked in battle.

"CLICK-click-click-CLICK-click-click-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK! CLICK-click-click-CLICK-click-click-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK!" Mimi's fingernails challenged.

"TAP-tap-tap-TAP-tap! TAP-tap! TAP-tap-tap-TAP-tap!" Collins' fingers returned. Mimi smiled and began a new beat, when Roger came around the corner. She stood and walked to him.

"Any luck?" Roger shrugged, and she sighed, not seeing the trace of a smile in his eyes.

"Don't tell me you've given up on me," a voice called. Mimi looked up, and there he was, fists jammed into his pockets, looking sheepish. She smiled and stretched out her arms toward him.

"Come here, baby," she said, hugging him tightly, then socking Roger on the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You were _supposed_ to get him to bring the camera!"

"I _tried_, but he wouldn't!" Mimi smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Oh, all right. I _guess_ I'll forgive you." They laughed and laced their fingers together. "Come on, gringos!" Mimi taunted.

"Guys, hang on a sec," Collins said, looking at Mark, who was standing stock-still, staring at something. Someone. Mimi walked behind him and looked at what he was looking at.

"She's heartbroken with you, you know. I think she even might have started using again." Mark winced. "I guess, now and, she likes to feel good. Can you just sit back and watch the both of you suffer?"

"I guess so," he replied, faintly. Mimi flicked his ear.

"Mark," she said sternly. "I know what your problem is. You're afraid of losing her. You're not afraid of going first, you never were. I think you're afraid of being alone. When she came along, you had hope again. Someone would always be with you. Now that you know the truth, that same fear came back. She would die before you, and you'd be left alone. Listen, Mark. Give in to love, or live in fear. Now, go get 'em, Tiger," she said, with a push.

X

a/n: This was originally going to be the last chapter, like, I was going to add the next part to this chapter, but I felt that I had taken too long between updates. Besides, I don't know what they'll say to each other, yet. Like, I do, but I don't. Making the update much farther in the future.


	9. Chapter 9

I'm Positive

Chapter 9

Sara's hand shook as she dug into her purse. _Damn lighter_. She finally found it and lit her cigarette. Taking a long drag, she found a park bench, feeling suddenly dizzy. _Its too damn cold_. She leaned back against the bench and closed her eyes, breathing slowly. She heard shuffling feet walking hesitantly by and stopping. She looked up. _Dammit_. It was Mark. She took another drag and looked at him, staring expectantly. He rubbed the back of his neck in that sheepish sort of way she had loved so well. That she still loved.

"So… um… what's your favorite color?" he asked. Sara let out a choked little sob and looked down. "Hey. Could you, uh, come back to the loft? I think we have some things to talk about."

"Depends," she replied in a strained voice. He sighed and turned to go. "Do you have heat?" she called. He turned back and she could see an "almost smile".

"Depends. Is our illegal wood burning stove good?" she tried to smile, but was sure she looked like she was grimacing.

X

Mark held out his hand to help her up, and felt the familiar jolt of electricity through her fingerless gloves and their eyes met.

The person that looked back at him was a hollow shell of the old Sara. Her skin was sallow and had a grayish tinge to it. Her cheekbones were thrown into sharp relief. She was too skinny. Her hair was limply pulled back and had lost its bounce and luminescence. Her eyes were fever-bright and pleading at him, "Don't hurt me again". They walked back down the familiar streets and Mark was once more searching desperately for something to say. As always, in uncomfortable positions, his mouth went faster than his brain.

"Mimi hears you've been using again. Is it true?"

"Mimi shouldn't believe the rumors a hormonal Maureen spreads around," Sara said icily. A short laugh escaped him and the corners of Sara's mouth turned up involuntarily. And there they were. At the place that had felt like home for both of them just a month ago. Mark heard another dry sob escape her, and his heart went out to her, longing to comfort her as he had done in the past. They walked up and found Mimi, Roger, and Collins sitting on the couch. They looked up and saw Mark and Sara together. Mimi's eyes became alert and she stood up.

"Come here, Collins, I need you to help me with… um… fixing my radio. And Roger, I want some coffee. Get me some." The two men looked confused, but with a look from Mimi, a look of recognition crossed their faces and they said.

"Oh!" in unison. When they were gone, Mark and Sara sat where the three had just vacated. They sat in silence once more. Sara was playing with her fingernails, and Mark was picking at a stray thread on a throw pillow. He could hear Mimi in the back of his mind, nagging, _Say it! Just tell her you still love her!_

"I – " he began, stammering. "I – um… I just brought you over to – to – I brought you over to – " Sara gave him an encouraging look, giving him confidence. "I just wanted to tell you – I still love you." Sara's eyes widened and she stood up quickly, steadying herself on the back of the sofa. She nervously chewed on her fingernails and stared out the window.

"But, I killed you. And I thought you couldn't face this with the one who did it."

"I know," Mark answered quickly. "I know what I said. I just – just – " He sighed and put his head in his hands. A soft warm hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Sara's soulful eyes staring pitifully at him.

"Mark, life began when I saw your face. You make me so completely happy! I would do anything to have what we had back. I love you, with everything I have." She knelt in front of him, clasping his hands to hers and pressing them to her cheek, hot tears spilling over on to his fingers. "But," she said shakily, "How long are you willing to stay in love?" He knelt with her, kissing her fingers tenderly.

"Is forever enough? 'Cause I'm never _ever_ giving you up again."

"I am _so_ sorry," she answered, her voice filled with emotion. "Are you sure you still want this? You want us?"

"I'm positive." The two laughed at the irony and embraced warmly.

"Take your AZT," Roger murmured softly.

X

a/n: The end! I loves the ending. I hope you do too! And, guess what? This is your last chance to review! So, if you want to make me "Squeee!" then you'll review! And then I'll love you!


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